


I Want A Family

by castielanie



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Assassin's Creed III, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 14:25:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/927554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielanie/pseuds/castielanie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor wonders what life will be like after the war is over, and you help him through his troubled mind and his misguided soul. Super fluffy. Hope you like it!</p><p>**SPOILERS FOR THE END OF ASSASSIN'S CREED III. If you haven't finished the game I suggest you do if you don't know the major occurrences.**</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Want A Family

     You shivered as a sudden rush of cold blew into the sitting room and shifted a few pages of the novel you were reading. Cursing, you shut the open window and peered out at the dark, snowy landscape that stretched around your abode on the homestead; it was quite beautiful, but in the winter, sometimes weeks would pass before you could travel to the city for supplies. Two candles on the windowsill were blown out, and when you reached for a book of matches next to them, you heard a light tap on the door.  
     You quickly struck the box and lit the candles, and stepped over to the door, opening it to a tall man lacquered with snow stuck in his hair and tucked in the folds of his clothing. “Connor, what a surprise– please, come in.”  
     Connor shivered and buried his hands under his arms, trying to wipe off as much caked snow and dirt as he could that his boots would have carried in. He looked rather hunched and small for a man of his stature, but he looked at the fire and turned to you, straightening up and placing his arms stiffly at his sides.  
     “[Name], may I... rest in your home for a few hours, until the blizzard is passed? If it is no trouble.” He wasn't wearing his full assassin's robes as he normally did when running errands on the homestead– in place were a simple pair of elkskin military boots, his buttoned shirt and navy trousers, only accompanied by his bracer and blade in contrast to his usual one-manned arsenal. In a snowstorm like this, in the north, if he wasn't the man he was, he could have easily frozen to death in this slice of the frontier.  
     “Of course, Connor. It's no trouble at all,” you assured him, and he gave you a small smirk and lowered himself into a rocking chair in front of the lighted hearth. Knowing that Connor was not always a man of words, you closed the matchbook that was lying open on the windowsill, and relaxed yourself back into the seat, submerging yourself again into the confines of your novel.

     It was nearly thirty pages later when Connor cleared his throat, and said your name with a slight drag off the end. “[Name]... may I ask you a question?” He implored, not moving in his spot at the fire to address you. You needed not to remove your eyes from your book, and instead, you listened to him as you gave a slight approval. “Naturally, Connor.”

     “What do you... wish to happen? When this is all finished, I mean. What do you want in life, after this life is over?”  
     Connor was... enigmatic, at times, to say the least.  
     For almost a year now, you had been living on the homestead under Connor's apprenticeship as an assassin recruit. For months, you lived in New York, until he requested you move to the homestead to aid him when he was engaged in conflict. You had no problem, simply because Connor was your superior, and he knew what was best for your skills. Since then, he guided you to be a hunter as well as a fighter; and you often gathered skins for him in return for his counsel and a home. Norris pieced together your own hidden blade, and Myriam taught you how to use every part of the animal to good use. Connor appreciated that, and that you had already had the philosophy in mind without him. But even so, however tuned he honed your skills to become, he would always assure you that there is no escaping this life– he learned that when he was just a boy.  
     “I'm not sure it will ever be over.”  
     He sighed, and muttered out a weak response that was almost disheartening. “I fear that you may be right.”  
     You had closed your novel and laid it on the floor next to you, now only listening to the sound of wind hitting the glass of your window and the crackle of the iron stove, and to the slow thump of the man's rocking chair as he nudged it ever so slightly. “May I wonder why you ask?” you mused.  
     “I want a family.”  
     His reply caught you off guard, as unusually timid as he'd been since he arrived. And it saddened you; death surrounded Connor like the snowstorm that whirled outside in the woods. It was his mother and his tribe, and then his best friend and his father; the latter at his own hand– not much was said by this man, because maybe there was not much left.  
     Connor rose abruptly, motioning his hands around and moving his mouth, trying to find the right words to say but not really knowing what those words were. “Prudence... and Warren... their child is a beautiful baby boy, and when I was there this morning, she asked me if I would hold him– and she laid the child in my arms and I got this... feeling, in my chest. A feeling of... something, that I... that I wanted that. That I wanted to hold my own child in my arms and guide him how to walk and to speak and to hunt... and a wife... that I wanted a woman who I love and who loves my child as much as I...”  
     Connor was beginning to worry you. His motioning hands turned into gripping at his sides and he now paced the length of the sitting room, tracking the remaining dirt off his boots onto your floor. You arose and walked in his path, and although you were a good foot shorter than the man, you gripped his shoulders and guided him to sit down in the ruddy upholstered chair where you had been, taking a seat on the edge of a table directly in front of him.  
     “Connor, Connor... slow down. You don't need to worry about this.” Your superior looked up, his eyebrows raised and cinched, and in the dim candlelight, he looked more like a child than you could have imagined him able. But you continued: “You will find a woman one day that you love, and she will love you just as much, and you will have a child that you will love just as much as she loves you and you love her. I assure you, Connor, it will happen.”  
     “How can you be sure?” He said as his hands tightened around his fingers.  
     “A man does not provide goodness as much as you do without finding goodness for himself. My God will make sure of that.”  
     He peered at you for a moment until his eyebrows lowered and he looked down at his lap, the expression on his face remaining sad and uncertain. You reached your hands from his shoulders around him and brought him close to you, and he buried his face in your neck, gripping the back of your shirt. You didn't know how long the two of you sat folded in each other, but you hoped that whatever pain Connor was currently in the midst of was being eased.  
     You began to pull away slowly, as the wind slowed down outside and the snowfall was reduced to just that, and humble Connor would surely want to leave and cease to bother you in your home. Just when your face was almost in front of his, Connor leaned forward and kissed you.  
     It was a surprise at least, and endearing at most; you knew Connor wasn't the kind of man for affection, at least not openly. And he wasn't a good kisser at all– his lips were cracked, and he didn't really move that much, but you thought it was safe to say that this was his first time. You kissed him back, and tightened your grip on him.  
     It was slow, and nice, and his lips were less unpleasant as the kiss went on, but eventually, he pulled away and rested his forehead on yours, whispering slowly, “Do you... want a family?”  
     “I do,” you whispered back, and with that, he kissed you again, this time a bit more passionately as he slid his hands up from your back to your cheeks, and began brushing them with his thumbs. His hands were worn and tough, but they felt good. You moved yours to the sides of his waist, and the both of you rose as he made your way to the open door of your bedroom.  
     Connor had obviously never kissed anyone, so you were sure he was a virgin. Whatever this night would bring, would really be a thing to remember.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man I liked this idea. I've been having some serious Connor problems/sexual frustration goin' on so this should take care of that. Please, tell me what you think!! ((I started tearing up writing this wtf))
> 
> *also sorry if this gets weaker towards the end because i was really tired when i wrote this wow*


End file.
